


It is better to bend than to break

by justreaderr



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Half-Sibling Incest, Less than perfect english, M/M, Non-Canon probably, Nothing I was just bored, Trying to make peace, Uncle/Nephew Incest, What Was I Thinking?, slightly possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-14
Updated: 2016-04-14
Packaged: 2018-06-02 04:57:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6551938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justreaderr/pseuds/justreaderr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>„Arafinwë, are you even listening?“</p><p>“Of course, brother, Fëanáro this, Fëanáro that. All you do is complaining.”</p><p>“All he does is antagonizing me.” Nolofinwë snapped.<br/>“You two are raging and butting heads like two dim-witted elks.” Arafinwë answered with a sigh, “Maybe you should simply stop reacting to his antics.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	It is better to bend than to break

**Author's Note:**

> First things first. I own nothing safe for crocked and messed up English. On that note it should be said that I've got no clue how English punctuation works, and nearly every time I place a "," my spelling program corrects it, completely infuriating.
> 
> Anyway this story is probably quite Non-Canon as I didn't even bother to think when it should take place, sometimes after Feanor and Fingolfin started feuding.

„Arafinwë, are you even listening?“

“Of course, brother, Fëanáro this, Fëanáro that. All you do is complaining.”

“All he does is antagonizing me.” Nolofinwë snapped.

“You two are raging and butting heads like two dim-witted elks.” Arafinwë answered with a sigh, “Maybe you should simply stop reacting to his antics.”

“You want me to allow him to walk all over me?”

Arafinwë rolled his eyes, before he answered, “You really don’t understand our half-brother, do you? The more you stand up to him, challenge him, resist him the more he will try to stop you and force you in the place he deems fitting.”

“So you don’t just want me to let him walk all over me, no you want me to bow down to him like a spineless worm?”, Nolofinwë raged and shot his younger brother an evil look, “I thought you were on my side.”

“I am on your side” the blond elf signed, “You came to me raging about him and requesting advice. Tirion isn’t big enough for two domineering high-princes. So this will either continue until one of you leaves or bows to the other. And both of us know that Fëanáro would rather chew his own arm off then do anything of this.”

“So I should do so? Let him win?”

“Why do you speak of winning and losing, Nolo? You are the one to mourn the loss of the fragile, somewhat brotherly relationship you had with him once, and you yourself told me that you have no real interest in replacing Fëanáro as crown prince, only wanting to make sure he will not run our people against a wall should he ever find himself in the position of high-king.”

“I do not want to replace him, that’s true. I have not the slightest clue where these rumours originate from.”

“Neither do I, but the fact remains that Fëanáro believes them and he will not stop antagonizing you, until you have sufficiently assured him that you mean no threat to him.”

“I have told him so frequently, yet he never listens.”

“You say you don’t mean to threaten him, yet you sit in all council meetings, you handle most of the paperwork, you speak to the Valar on behalf of our people and you act in place of father when he leaves the city.”

“So I do, because our brother cannot be bothered to leave his forge long enough nor has he ever learned to curb his tongue. He should be grateful that I act in his stead and leave him free to create and do as he pleases, yet all I receive is scorn.”

“This I know, but to our ever distrustful and jealous brother it would seem like a challenge. He is not carved out to rule, and everyone knows this, even he himself, so these rumours are bond to bear fruit in his mind. If there is one thing he can’t handle then it is this. He does not deal well with insecurities.”

“Meaning?”

“You need to assure him, that you do the things you do for him not in place of him. Submit to him and give him the rest of mind that what happens, happens under his control. If he knows it is him who commands you to represent him, this tension will evaporate.”

Nolofinwë opened his mouth to argue but silenced himself as he thought about his brother’s words. “You think truly this would bring the peace and unity back to our city? For all I can foresee is him gloating over this triumph and him losing all reminding respect for me. Everything would then turn even worse.”

“He surely might gloat, but if you keep in character and convince him of your seriousness he surely will accept your submission to him.”

The black-haired prince closed his eyes and groaned in displeasure, “I don’t want to kneel in front of him.”

Arafinwë merely shrugged, “It is you choice, brother. You can swallow you pride to win back peace and unity or your pride remains intact and you spend the rest of your days wrestling with him for control until one of you finally puts an end to the other.”

Nolofinwë took a deep breath before he turned to his brother and mumbled “Very well, Arafinwë I will heed your advice.”

The blonde smiled softly, “Your acting most wisely. Never forget, it is better to bend than to break.”

 

His brother’s words kept repeating themselves in his head, as Nolofinwë walked up towards his half-brother’s house, a place where he had not been seen for nearly a decade. The guard at the front door had to do a double-take and blinked rapidly as he spoke his wish to see his brother. But then he was escorted into the house.

The room his brother expected him in was richly furnished, but Nolofinwë paid it little heed. His eyes focused on Fëanáro and three of his sons who all eyed him with hardly hidden distaste. He swallowed hard and balled his hands into fists behind his back. This would be even harder than he had imagined.

“Nolofinwë, what do you want?” Fëanáro asked without any preamble.

“I would speak with you” his eyes travelled to his nephews, “preferably alone.”

“There is nothing you could say that I would not have my sons hear” his brother dismissed coldly.

This Nolofinwë had already feared nevertheless he had hoped, quite obviously in vain. For a moment he rail against his fate, but when he heard Fëanáro’s noise of displeasure he sighed unhappily.

“I have come to end this dispute between us, brother”, uncertainly he shifted from one foot to the other, but then he dropped to one knee and bowed his head in submission, “I mean no challenge to you or your rightful place as father’s heir and successor to the throne. So I have spoken often yet my word does not seem to be enough for you, so I offer my subservience to you. You shall lead and I shall follow.”

He could hear the sharp intake of breath but did not dare to raise his head to see who it had been. Neither did he look up as he noticed someone approaching.

“You are lying” a voice spat which Nolofinwë recognised as Curufinwë’s. Before he could even form a reply a hand sneaked in his hair and forced his head back. Faced with his nephew’s angry face he schooled his face in neutrality, but remained quiet. There was little ground to gain in arguing his intentions with his brother’s ill-tempered offspring. 

As it became obviously that his uncle would not respond to him Curufinwë snarled and released his hold on the other’s hair only to raise his hand and backhand the kneeling elf across the face. Caught completely unaware by both the hit and the force packed into it Nolofinwë nearly doubled over, but managed to catch himself with his left hand on the ground.

Tasting blood in his mouth the high-prince had to supress a threatening growl and the impulse to raise and teach the impertinent youth a lesson in respecting his elders. Only his intention to demonstrate his brother the truth behind his words managed to rein in his own temper. So he only righted himself back into his kneeling position and remained docile.

With his eyes still focused on the floor he could not see what his brother was thinking, but found his attention focussing more and more on the moody elf pacing around him like a wolf ready to pounce on his prey.

“Do you truly think I will allow you to lure father in a trap with your false words of peace and humility so you may later on stick a knife in his back, uncle.” the agitated elfling hissed and Nolofinwë had to supress a sigh. Distrust obviously was inheritable. 

Calmly he repeated his words from earlier “I do mean no challenge; neither in word nor deed.”

“Liar!” Curufinwë shouted “Your deeds do already speak loud and clearly of your treachery, usurper.”

“I merely take care of the duties your father is always too busy to undertake himself.” Nolofinwë all but growled at his nephew.

“So you come here to accuse father of slighting his duties.”

He could feel his temper raising. Arafinwë had been wrong, nothing would be achieved by this undertaking safe for him humiliating himself and his half-brother and his sons doubting and twisting every word he had to speak.

“What? You're not even going to deny it?”

“Why? So you may twist my response in another presumed accusation.” the detachment in his voice belying his amounting rage.

“I presume nothing. What is the real reason you came here for?”

Nolofinwë remind quiet and studied the woodwork that adorned the floor.

“Answer me!” Curufinwë demanded.

How much additional damage would it probably do to his relationship with his half-brother if he were to simply rise and walk out without another word or a look back? At least Arafinwë could no longer accuse him of stirring the fire between Fëanáro and himself, he had given his counsel his best try, it was hardly his fault that Fëanáro’s house consisted of unreasonable madmen.

With a roar the young elf pounced onto the elder and knocked him onto his back. Settling over Nolofinwë’s waist, gripping the other’s forearms and forcing them onto the ground, he snarled into his face. “What is the reason for your coming?”

“This I have stated already.”

“You spoke of submission yet are showing nothing but defiance.”

“Never have I spoken of submitting myself to you” Nolofinwë hissed back with as much loathing as he dared to pack into his voice given the circumstances.

Curufinwë’s eyes narrowed in ire, as he descended on to the other’s lips and, as his uncle gasped in shock, invaded his mouth. That was stretching it too far; his jaws snapped shut, biting his nephew’s intruding tongue and used the other’s moment of shock and pain to raise himself and throw this insolent youngling off. 

Albeit he had underestimated the strength many hours in his father’s smithery had granted the youth and the moment Curufinwë regained his bearings he found himself helplessly pinned beneath the now truly furious elf.

“Submitting to father means submitting to us all.” He hissed.

With more teeth than tongue he attacked Nolofinwë's mouth and when the other turned his head aside, continued his assault on his neck all the while rubbing himself against the trapped elf. The dark-haired Elf growled in frustration and annoyance when he could not fend his nephew off and exhaled his relieve, when Fëanáro finally took pity upon him and stepped over them to pull his son off.

Once removed from his prey Curufinwë’s angry growl turned in a displeased whimper which echoed through the room as his eyes continued to lustfully roam his uncle’s form. “Enough, Curvo” Fëanáro called his son to order, “If anyone gets to sample my lovely brother it will be me.”

“But, atto” the younger smith whined, “I had him first.”

Nolofinwë sat frozen on the ground and stared at his brother as if he had lost his mind. Sample him? He was no buffet. Slowly his gaze wandered back towards the door he had come through. Maybe if he was fast enough …

“Already planning to leave, half-brother?” Fëanáro’s burning eyes settled onto him and quite correctly guessed his intention, “I don’t think so.”

He let go of Curufinwë who looked sulkily and crossed his arms in displeasure and turned towards him fully and demanded mockingly. “Come here, little Nolofinwë, I shall test your claim of subservience.”

With wide panicked eyes he searched his other nephews’ faces for help, but both Tylecomo and Carnistir were eyeing him with the same subtle lust that also shone in Fëanáro’s eyes, so his look settled back onto his own brother’s smirking face and he gulped audibly. 

“Don’t keep me waiting; you know I’m not known for my great patience.”

Very slowly Nolofinwë collected himself of the ground and took two careful steps towards his half-brother. Then he hesitated. His wide eyes searched Fëanáro’s eyes for a clue on what the other was planning. Yet all he could spot there was his standing order and demand that he was to come to him. Obey.

He knew he had to comply with this command to show his submission, but in his head all alarm bells were ringing. Screaming at him to turn around and flee as long as he was still able to do so. Slowly he forced his feet to take a step and another, until he stood face to face with his brother. They stood at the same height, yet he could not bring himself to meet his eyes instead he kept them lowered and focused on Fëanáro’s red robe. 

“That’s a good little usurper” Fëanáro praised as one would a pet and Nolofinwë could nearly feel his hackles raise in anger and humiliation.

Then a strong hand sneaked into his hair and lifted his face for closer inspection. Nolofinwë was quite certain that his brother could see the defiance in his eyes as the other smiled in obvious anticipation. Without a word warm lips settled onto his own, in an unexpectedly pleasant kiss.

Weary and confused the younger prince’s hands found his brother’s chest and pushed at him to be released.

“What is it?” Fëanáro questioned annoyed “Did you not say you would submit to me?”

“But not … I mean …” he stumbled over his words rather uncharacteristically “I can’t do this … I’m married. What about Anairë?” He looked at his brother uncertainly, his eyes asking: What about Nerdanel?

Yet the smith only chuckled amused “I’m quite certain Anairë couldn’t care less what you do with another man, as long as you keep your hands off of other nissi.”

With this said he closed their distance again and this time Nolofinwë let himself be kissed. It felt quite different than kissing his sweet wife. Their kisses were always lovingly and gentle, Fëanáro’s kisses on the other hand were slowly but surely turning burning hot and demanding. A rather undignifying squeak escaped Nolofinwë when his brother’s hand sneaked down his back and sharply pinched his rear.

With little consideration Fëanáro’s tongue searched his own before plundering his younger brother’s mouth, while Nolofinwë could only hold on caught completely out of his element like a fish on dry land.

When the elder prince pulled back and observed his brother’s rosy complexion, sparkling eyes and rapidly rising and falling chest he smiled in deep satisfaction. What a lovely gift the day had delivered to him. Looking like this he seemed far less of a huge pain in the ass. He hummed softly to himself and let his hands travel up and down his compliant sibling’s form before settling them on his collar and started undoing the first bottoms. 

Immediately he tensed again and Fëanáro nearly rolled his eyes. Surly he would not still think Anairë would emasculate him if he were to have some fun with his brother after all this was an exercise to demonstrate his words of subservience. How else was he supposed to test them? By making him jump of a tower, surly not.

Yet he did not back away or tried again to stop him, so Fëanáro was willing to count this as progress. The first pieces of fabric dropped to the ground only to reveal another layer and another. Trust his prim and proper brother to wear full court-robes even in his spare time. Nolofinwë's eyes dropped to the ground and Fëanáro could see him itching to collect his clothing and fold them meticulously.

But there was time for that later, now he would unwrap his present and see what was hidden under those many layers of fabric. When he finally reached his undershirt he nearly signed in relief. Had Nolofinwë not looked quite so uncomfortable he would have accused him of downright teasing, yet that had most certainly not been his stick-in-the-mud brother’s intention.

Nolofinwë volunteered his undershirt only after some softly grumbled protest, but when it finally came of Fëanáro took a step back to study his younger brother’s flawless physique. It had been a very long time since he had last seen him bare; back then he had not yet even outgrown his boyish body.

In the meantime he had bulked up a bit and lost the long-limbed awkwardness of a still growing elfling, yet had remained slimmer than an elf of his age should be, no wonder he had such a problem freeing himself from Curufinwë’s advances. Yet what else could be expected from an elf that practically lived behind his desk and spent all his time juggling paperwork. If Nolofinwë wouldn’t have been completely useless when it came to smithery he would stick him in his forge for a decade or two, it surely would do him a world of good. Nevertheless he was lovely, but what else to expect from a child sprung from Finwë’s loins. 

Under his approving regard Nolofinwë's eyes lowered themselves shyly onto his boots and his ears and cheeks turned a rather adorable shade of red. He was entirely too good at this meek und devoted behaviour Fëanáro decided and as he studied his sons for a short moment he noticed that they seemed to think the same judging by their hungry looks. But as of yet the older elf had not decided whether he was willing to share his prize with them or keep him all to himself.

“Finish undressing for me, sweetling.” If possible Nolofinwë's face burned even redder as he shakenly reached for his belt, before he bowed down to remove his boots and pull down his leggings and after an encouraging nod from Fëanáro his loincloth as well.

Now completely bare to their greedy eyes he swallowed hard and his eyes wandering ever so often towards the door, quite ready to bolt. Obviously the threat of their gorgeous guest fleeing finally rose too high for Tylecormo and he wandered in a circle around them and placed himself between Nolofinwë and the door.

The second high-prince of the Noldor whined softly in mild distress as he followed Tylecormo with his eyes and noticed his only getaway route was now blocked.

To give him no more time to brood and get even more anxious, Fëanáro closed the gap between them to kiss him again. This time he opened his mouth readily and let his elder brother dominate the kiss and roam his hands all over the smooth expanse of his skin. When the smith noticed the first onsets of arousal in his younger brother’s body he started to grind himself against Nolofinwë's hip.

Again his brother gasped in astonishment which to equal parts amused and surprised the elder. Soon he would enjoy Nolofinwë's slender body in the fullest, but first he would pose another test to him.

“Get on your knees, Nolofinwë.” he ordered and watched as his brother obeyed after a short moment of hesitation.

With one hand he opened his own robes and pulled his leggings down, low enough to free his member.

Nolofinwë observed his doings, before he looked up at him with wide naïve eyes completely obvious to the deed Fëanáro wanted him to perform.

The elder elf observed how the kneeling elf’s eyes travelled between his half hard elfhood and his face back and forth blankly looking for a clue.

“You never did this?” Fëanáro finally questioned astonished. Sure he had known that his brother had been completely enamoured with Anairë since the very moment he had understood the difference between a male and a female elf and they had married the moment they had been old enough to do so, yet never had he thought that Nolofinwë had remained totally innocent in his time of waiting and never sought out the companionship of another elf.

“Did what?” Blueish grey eyes stared at him completely perplexed. 

Fëanáro blinked once, twice then he looked at his sons rather baffled. Tylecormo looked quite incredulous as his eyes wandered between his father and uncle back and forth. Carnistir and Curufinwë on the other hand looked positively predatory, as their eyes travelled their uncle’s kneeling form.

“You have never lain with another ner?” Fëanáro finally breathed staggered.

“Indeed I did not. Why would I? I have only ever desired Anairë.” Nolofinwë answered just as confused as to why this seemed to be so exceptional.

“Well then” Fëanáro shrugged easily “An elf is never too old to learn something new, don’t you agree.”

And as Nolofinwë nodded carefully and slightly distrustful, his brother grinned charmingly and settled one hand gently his cheek. His thumb traced the other’s lips softly before he ordered, “Open for me.” When his command was heeded he let his finger slip inside. “Suck”

The younger of the two half-brothers started to suckle gently for a moment, looking still rather confused. Fëanáro observed him intensely and did not miss the exact moment realization dawn on Nolofinwë and his eyes dropped from Fëanáro’s eyes to his elfhood.

With a smirk the elder elf freed his finger and let his hand wander through his brother’s fine black hair for a moment, before settling on his head to guide him gently but firmly to take him.

Every fibre in Nolofinwë’s body sought to protest his brother’s handling, yet he could not deny a certain amount for curiosity. Fëanáro’s elfhood had hardened considerably in the last few moments and was now pointing towards him. His brother’s hand was still resting against his head and putting slight pressure on him, yet this he could resist easily. A short glance at Fëanáro’s face revealed that his brother had no intention of forcing the contact by brutal strength, yet he expected Nolofinwë to follow his silent demand.

The kneeling elf took a deep breath and focussed on the task put before him. While he was not entirely certain what to do with any knowledge gained here and now, he would allow his brother to teach, so he went pliable under his hand and let him guide his head.

As his mouth enveloped his brother’s hard flesh he analysed the strange feeling but decided it was not nearly as bad as he might have feared. It was warm and tasted slightly salty. Curiously he licked along the length and Fëanáro hummed in agreement.

Nolofinwë’s eyes travelled back upwards to observe his brother’s reaction better, only to find his eyes closed, and then slowly they reopened and made contact with his own. Following the slight pressure at the back of his head he allowed the flesh in his mouth to slip a little bit deeper and started to hollow out his cheeks and suck, as his brother had demanded he do to his finger.

Fëanáro moaned happily and let him do so for a long moment, before slightly tightening his grip in Nolofinwë’s hair to thrust into his mouth; shallow at first, then going deeper with each shove until he nudged the back of his throat and Nolofinwë gaged violently.

“Shh” Fëanáro smoothed “Try to relax you throat. It will not be comfortable, but you will endure this for me, Nolofinwë.”

The kneeling elf looked heartrendingly up and whimpered, but made no attempt to pull away and end this test of his willingness to submit. The elder elf smiles satisfied and started to move again seeking the delicious feeling of warmness and wetness together with the uncontrolled contradictions of his brother’s throat. Quite purposefully going deeper than Nolofinwë was comfortable with to see if he would protest this treatment instead of suffering it as he had been told to do.

But the younger elf took it as composed as possible. As unpleasant as the treatment was, he soon noticed something rather gratifying: His brother trusted him; trusted him to not do quite possibly irreparable damage to the most vulnerable part of his body. He could do so easily, his teeth as sharp as any elf’s and his jaws strong. One bite would be enough. They both knew this, the knowledge shone in their eyes.

When his brother gaged particularly hard Fëanáro could feel his release approaching. For a short moment he entertained the thought of coming down Nolofinwë's throat yet the risk that he might not swallow it but choke on it as he erratically gasped for air was too great. So in the very last moment he pulled out and came across his brother’s chest and stomach, moaning in pleasure.

Once Fëanáro’s hand fell from his brother’s hair Nolofinwë's head dropped and he panted quite heavily for breath.

“Beautiful” a voice breathed from behind his back and both Fëanáro and Nolofinwë looked at Carnistir who had sneaked near, his eyes settled on his rather debauched looking uncle. “Wouldn’t you agree, atto?”

Fëanáro smiled in agreement and bowed down to kiss his brother in silent gratitude and apology. With one hand wiping away the tears that had spilled from his eyes “Very beautiful indeed.”

“But a little bit filthy” Curufinwë piped in and closed in on them as well. “One would have to clean him up.” He grinned wolfishly.

Fëanáro shook his head in playful resentment. “By all means don’t hold yourself back on my account.”

The young smith hummed happily and moved graceful as a cat towards his kneeling uncle, before dropping on his knees as well. Ere Nolofinwë could utter a sound of protest he had already latched onto his chest and started to lick at his father’s seed. His hands digging in his uncle’s shoulder and back, before slowly traveling to his neck and hair. A sharp pull made the elder elf arch his back and present his smooth chest to Curufinwë’s greedy tongue. 

With a certain amount of amusement Fëanáro and his remaining sons observed Nolofinwë’s half-hearted struggle against his nephew, only for him to freeze and moan as Curufinwë’s tongue found his nipple. The younger elf pulled back and grinned with perverse delight before returning his mouth and starting to suck, lick and bit at the sensible piece of flesh.

The tormented elf himself was quite obviously trapped in indecision. The hand he didn’t need to support his body had twisted in Curufinwë’s hair trapped there between his mind’s command to free himself from this delicious torture and his body’s demand for more. Pleadingly his eyes sought Fëanáro’s who only chuckled in delight at his brother’s plight before he mused, “Had I known that all it would take to turn you annoying stuffiness in wanton and completely debauched neediness was a little bit of pleasure I would have bowed you over father’s council table years ago.”

The look of utter mortification that lit Nolofinwë’s rapidly burning face was just too much and Fëanáro laughed in utter glee. 

“That is … not funny … at all …, Fëanáro.” Nolofinwë gaped in between moans of pleasure.

“I object, half-brother mine, it is positively hysterical. Who would have thought that you would make such a pretty picture to look at, that you would have such sweet sounds trapped in you? How long have they waited to be let out?”

The only answer he received was a long moan, as Curufinwë’s unoccupied hand began wandering again, finding Nolofinwë’s other nipple and pulling slightly before travelling south to grip his straining elfhood. Ere he could reach his destiny though, Carnistir stepped forward. 

“That is quite enough, greedy bother of mine, there are others who not yet had a chance to enjoy our meek uncle.” 

“Moryo is quite correct, Curvo.” Tylecormo injected and stepped next to his kneeling brother, “Pass him on to us.”

“I had him first” the youngest answered and tightened his grip on his lustful captive.

Now free of any dazing stimulation Nolofinwë breathed deeply, his glassy eyes cleared somewhat and he looked sulkily up towards his own brother who apparently felt not even slightly bothered that his sons would discuss him like a mere toy for them to use for their amusement.

Fëanáro grinned as he caught his brother’s affronted thoughts and answered in his mind ‘You are at this moment but a toy to use for my pleasure, subservient half-brother of mine, and to share with my sons as I please.’

Nolofinwë narrowed his eyes in slight displeasure at these words yet as Fëanáro’s thoughts washed through his own to show him what he would do to him they dropped in want and in the end he could not supress another lewd moan. His own hand dropping from its resting place tangled in Curufinwë’s hair to his groin.

The older elf clicked his tongue in disapproval and turned so his children’s attention first to himself, then to Nolofinwë. The second high-prince coloured even more in humiliation and unfulfilled lust. “We shall relocate this endeavour to a more private setting and then I shall decide who gets to fulfil his cravings.”

Fëanáro pulled his son and brother back on their feet. When Nolofinwë however wanted to bow down again to retrieve his clothing he delivered a resonating slap to his rear. The younger half-brother wheeled around and hissed in anger.

“Did I allow you to redress?”

“I shall not walk bare around your house.”

“You shall do as I say, so you offered it to me and so it shall happen. But calm your mind we will not go far.” As amusing as it would be to humiliate his brother so, it would fall back on himself, bring attention to this and most likely draw his father’s rage on him. Nolofinwë was a high-prince of the Noldor and should not be regarded as less by a mere servant. No this humiliation was for his own and by extent his sons’ eyes alone.

True to his word Fëanáro merely opened a passage in the sidewall hidden from the eye and shooed his brother along. The path ended in his private study and from there through a door they entered his bedchamber.

Once the heavy wooden door was shut and locked, Feanor himself stripped his outer robe and tunic, only leaving his leggings and boots. His sons copied his doings before they faced him eager to hear Fëanáro’s next words.

But the brilliant smith merely smirked at their apparent eagerness and started to circle his brother. “Well, half-brother mine, what shall I do? Shall I let them have you? Sent them onto you to completely wreck you? They would leave you behind as a spoiled mess of an elf.”

Nolofinwë shuddered slightly and looked towards his nephews. It was certainly not hard to imagine what they might be willing to do to him. All of them tall and strong in build and not particularly fond of him. They would not damage him beyond repair, but they would make him suffer and -judging by their predatory and notorious smiles- they would make him love it and beg for his own doom. A form of revenge that would certainly appeal to them greatly.

He gulped and followed his brother with his eyes, as he passed them lazily trailing a hand along their chest. “They are lovely, aren’t they? You are quite lucky that I would share you with them, share them with you. Could you say the same?”

The dark-haired elf tipped his head slightly to the side. Would he share his children with Fëanáro? Findecano and Turucano were strong and unyielding, maybe he would share them with his brother, should they desire him. Irissë, probably to young still, on the other hand he would guard, near her he would let nobody.

Fëanáro chuckled, “Ah, brother, I fear your daughter will not take kindly on your overprotectiveness once she is older. The more you try to cage an eagle the more it will fight for freedom. But that is neither here nor there.”

He finished his circle and came to stand behind Nolofinwë, his arms circling around his torso, pulling him against his strong chest. “You should be grateful, for I will offer you a choice. You see, now that I have you, I shall very much enjoy playing with you. There are some things that are going to happen now. I shall enjoy your pretty little rear for one, this is not optional, but you may choose who will have your mouth, whose mouth you will have and who will prepare you for me.”

Nolofinwë drew a shuddering breath and directed his eyes back to his nephews who all seemed quite eager to perform the tasks set before them. Yet who to choose and let near which vulnerable body part. Would it even make a difference?

Fëanáro’s hand wandered over his flanks and neck until it reached his mouth and gently traced his lips. “Who will get your sweet mouth?”

Uncertain his eyes finally settled on his eldest nephew present, and he murmured, “Tylecormo, I think.”

His brother chuckled behind him and a nervous knot formed in his belly. Had he chosen poorly? The hand fell to his hard length and squeezed slightly.

“And who shall show you how to bring great pleasure with one’s mouth?” Posed with the choice between Curufinwë’s all too eager look and Carnistir wicked grin, he murmured.

“Curufinwë.”

Now the grin on Carnistir’s face grew even bigger, nearly splitting his face in two “Then I shall gladly have your tight little rear, uncle.”

The high-prince swallowed hard, but nodded bravely. 

“Then I would say, Curvo he is yours - once again.” With these words the crown prince released his brother and his youngest son present stalked towards him. With ease he manoeuvred Nolofinwë towards the bed and tumbled him onto the covering.

“Place your hands next to your head, uncle and do not move them, or I will have my brothers hold you down.” Curufinwë ordered and observed gleefully as the elder elf obeyed. Then he moved on top of him, pressing a harsh kiss to his lips before traveling down his body; first trailing his hands down, then following with his tongue and lips.

Until he reached Nolofinwë’s groin, but before he could touch him there the elder elf turned on his side and curled up instinctively to protect his vulnerable flesh. Curufinwë chuckled amused before he admonished mockingly. “I will taste you, uncle, and the better you comply with my wishes, the more likely it will be that I will decide to bring you pleasure and not see it fit to teach you a lesson.”

Nolofinwë breathed in deeply and sought shyly eye contact with his nephew. He didn’t like this feeling of being at his brother’s and nephew’s mercy at all. Never in his entire life had he felt as strangely helpless as at this very moment. Maybe he would not have felt so uncertain if he had played some of the games with other males in his youth, but he had never felt the need to experiment. He should have taken Arafinwë up on his offers, at least with his full-brother he could have been certain that he would never intentionally cause him discomfort or harm.

In his nephew’s eyes shone a small amount of compassion, but just for a short moment before it was replaced by fervent eagerness. Demandingly his hand stroked Nolofinwë’s thigh and the second high-prince made a little panicky sound, before he forced his body to comply. With sheer force of will he kept his legs spread even after Curufinwë’s calloused hands settled on the sensitive skin of his inner thighs. He snapped his eyes shut and tried for a moment to calm his racing heard and erratic breath. 

But when completely unexpected a warm hand settled on his face he just barely managed to supress a frightened squeak and his eyes flew open, only to meet those fiery glowing ones of his brother.

“This is no mere nervousness, not even slight fright what I feel emitting from you. No, you are completely terrified.”

Nolofinwë tried to avert his eyes yet Fëanáro kept his chin trapped and their eyes locked. “I … I’m … No.” he stuttered, trying to muster some rebellious thoughts.

“Do not deny what is so obviously. As long as you obey and submit to me there is nothing for you to fear. Trust me.”

At these words Nolofinwë bit his lower lip and closed his eyes; therein probably laid the crux of the matter.

“You don’t trust me - at all.” Fëanáro gasped after a moment completely shocked.

“I do …” Nolofinwë tried, but as he opened his eyes again and saw that there was no way his brother would belief his lie, so he slowly shook his head in denial.

Fëanáro let go of his brother’s chin and let his hand rest above his breast; feeling the racing heart and the jerkily raising and falling of his chest. It should not matter, should it? Nolofinwë was nothing but an adversary, and usurper, a threat to his throne and to his father’s love. Yet then why did this knowledge, this thought that he did not trust him cause a rather unpleasant arch in his own chest. “Why not, Nolofinwë? Why don’t you trust me?” He murmured quietly without actually meaning to voice these words aloud.

The younger elf turned his head to the side, focusing on the wall. Just as quietly Fëanáro received his answer, “Why would I? You never made a great pretence of your feelings for me. You hated me from the very beginning and told me more than once that you wished I would have never been born. Why would I trust that you mean me anything but ill?”

There the nasty little arch was again, stinging in his chest. He had heard the pain in his brother’s voice, yet when he turned his head back to him there was nothing but bitter acceptance in those blue-grey eyes. Nolofinwë had long since resigned himself to that fact. No a single tear would he ever again cry over his half-brother’s resentment, a fragile elfling’s heart he no longer possessed.

Fëanáro swallowed and turned his head towards his sons to avoid the silent accusation in his half-brother’s eyes. Curufinwë still stood between Nolofinwë’s legs his hands resting on him as he observed his father and uncle speaking, while Tylecormo and Carnistir had moved closer and stood now on both sides of the bed. His third born tilted his head in silent inquiry whether they should leave or remain.

Coming to a decision he refocused on Nolofinwë and said calmly, “I will let no harm come to you as long as you submit yourself to me, little one. On this, you have my word.” Then he indicated Curufinwë to continue, his own hand remaining on its place resting above Nolofinwë’s heart.

The youngest elf in the room kept his eyes just a moment longer on his uncle’s face before refocusing on his treat. Nolofinwë’s fear definitively had dispelled all the pleasure the older elf had felt before so it would be a bit of a challenge to once again trap him in want and make him lose himself in passion, but hardly impossible considering how beautifully he had responded to him previously.

Gently he lowered his head and for a moment simply let his warm breath stroking him. Immediately he felt the muscles in his uncle’s legs tightening in preparation to snap them shut and protect himself. Somewhere above himself he could hear his father make a smoothing sound and Nolofinwë relaxed slightly.

Satisfied with this Curufinwë ducked his head down and licked along the flaccid length once, twice and felt a slight stiffening. The young smith hummed happily to himself and took the hardening flesh in his mouth; only the top first to lick and suckle at his slit until he was granted the first drop of precum.

A faint whine escaped Nolofinwë and Curufinwë was quite sure it had its roots more in pleasure than in distress. He let his hands glide over the soft skin of his uncle’s inner thighs and lower abdomen, before crossing his arms over his hips to hold him down to the bed and prevent any attempt to buckle into his mouth.

Then he set to work for real, moving his head up and down slowly, hollowing his checks and sucking hard. As Nolofinwë cried out this time it was solely out of pleasure, but then he was muffled as Fëanáro moved over him to steal a kiss.

Slowly Curufinwë pulled back, relishing the muscle contractions under his strong arms as his uncle tried to follow his retreating mouth only to find himself trapped under the combined weight of father and son. Even through the kiss his disgruntled grumbling could be heard and Curufinwë chuckled in delighted amusement at this obvious neediness, but decided against teasing to minimise the chance of Nolofinwë finding his way back to fearfulness.

Instead he latched once again on the inviting flesh, this time however taking it deeper, showing his uncle how to relax his throat, before letting his length bump against the back of his throat and swallowing around him.

This had the elder elf twitching and twisting against the hold over his body to grip his nephew’s head and trust into his waiting mouth. Yet he was not allowed and to make matters even worse just when he was about to climax Fëanáro told Curufinwë to stop.

When his nephew pulled completely away, leaving his arching elfhood exposed to the cool air he actually growled at his brother in displeasure.

“You will get your release, Nolofinwë, but you will do so under my terms and on my elfhood. This was for you to learn how to please with one’s mouth, now we will see whether you’ve been attentive or not. Tylecormo he is yours.”

The hunter nodded eagerly and sat himself on the edge of the bed, “Come and kneel in front of me, uncle.” Trying to hurry him along to keep him from second-guessing. His word through earned him only a stubborn little grumble as the elder elf rolled onto his side slowly facing away from Tylecormo and demonstrative and quite audible clicking his mouth shut, a challenging light in his eyes.

Nolofinwë did indeed not take too kindly on being denied his needs, he was first and foremost a high-prince of the Noldor and more than used to things going his way.

“Are you going to pout now like an elfling denied his treat?” Fëanáro questioned disbelievingly. As he received a demonstrative huff and a set of crossed arms he actually laughed at his half-brother’s audacity. “You seem to belief your vulnerable body parts a lot safer than they actually are then, if you’ve forgotten your fear so quickly.”

A look of hesitation and weary contemplation settled onto Nolofinwë’s face at his brother’s amused dismissal of his quiet protest of his treatment. 

Fëanáro’s smile turned into a wicked smirk as he noticed the uncertainty and worry in the other’s eyes. “I shall be lenient with this clear show of defiance and give you another chance, out of the good in my heart and my knowledge of your inexperience in these matters. Obey Tylecormo’s order or remain in this position and face its consequences, it is your choice. I shall enjoy it either way, sweetling.”

Something in his brother’s tone sounded quite like a challenge to him; a dare to remain as he was. Somehow his nice and securely curled up position seemed, judging by Fëanáro’s reaction at least, a lot less safe than kneeling before his nephew. Why? Maybe it was a trick. He would most certainly not put it past his brother to try and trick him into giving up his childish protest and complying with his game.

“I see.” Fëanáro responded after a short moment of waiting with an unsettlingly happy smile, “This is your choice then? Wonderful.”

He got up from the bed and opened a drawer in his nightstand and pulled something out - Nolofinwë had no chance to see - before he threw it towards Carnistir who caught it with one hand.

A nervous thrill wacked his body, as the elf observed the look his nephews shared with each other, ere Tylecormo rose from his side of the bed and wandered to the other side, coming to stand next to his father and near his uncle’s head. Carnistir on the other hand climbed on the bed and made himself comfortable near Nolofinwë’s rear.

Distrustful the second high-prince eyed his brother’s sons by turns, trying to determine what they had in mind. It was not till Curufinwë plopped down next to him with a big grin on his face he would receive the answer to his unspoken question. The young elf stroked one hand along his ribcage, before bowing over him and whispering in his ear. “You are offering yourself quite nicely for both my brother’s to take their due at the same time; Turco your mouth and Moryo your rear.”

Nolofinwë froze in shock as the smiles on all the other elfs’ faces grew even wider.

“You made your bed, half-brother mine, now you will sleep in it.” Fëanáro admonished strictly as his brother turned his pleading eyes on him. “Be good and everything will be all right.”

The younger elf gulped hard, but finally nodded in fearful submission and let the brother’s pull him into the position they wanted him in.

His mouth went lax when Tylecormo freed his elfhood and allowed the rigid flesh to enter in between his lips. Concentrating on the at least somewhat familiar feeling and trying to emulate what Curufinwë had done upon him. Thankfully his nephew seemed not pressed to test him as his own half-brother had done instead moaned happily to his inexperienced licking and sucking.

Fully absorbed in his task he did not even notice as Carnistir bowed his head over him, and only dimly registered that his leg was bowed against his stomach. What he noticed was the wet touch of a sneaky tongue against his pugged hole. 

He stiffened at the odd feeling and tried to turn his head to observe his nephew’s doing, but Tylecormo was unwilling to allow it. Instead he moved to hold him in place and move gently in and out of his mouth. Half-heartily he started to pleasure him again, yet the majority of his attention was still focused on his lower half and Carnistir’s doings.

For a moment the elf licked at him and into him, before pulling back and the soft pop of an opening phial was heard. The next sensation was even weirder, as a slippery finger reached for his opening and started to rub him, ere slipping in.

Once again Nolofinwë tried to lift his head to see what was going on, and this time his nephew allowed him a little leeway, but only to settle himself on the bed. Then he tugged on his uncle’s hair until the other twisted his upper body on his front and raised himself on his elbows, to take Tylecormo’s elfhood again.

Fëanáro all the while stood next to the bed and observed with mounting desire his half-brother, caught between his sons. Judging by Tylecormo’s blissful look, Nolofinwë’s mouth could with some practice be quite good at something else than sprouting nonsense. Curufinwë busying himself with stroking every inch of available skin and Carnistir now moving two fingers into him, scissoring, they all got to touch what was his.

For some more moments he tortured himself, but once Carnistir moved a third finger into his half-brother causing him to moan loudly around Tylecormo’s length, Fëanáro’s patience reached its end. With a quiet, but sharp order he called his sons away. They obeyed immediately if quite dissatisfied. Without taking his eyes of his panting brother he murmured, “I trust you will take care of each other.”

In answer to his clear dismissal he received soft affirmative noises, as they hurried to collect their clothes and vanished through the door.

Once they were alone Fëanáro stepped forward to touch Nolofinwë. As his hand trailed over the small of his back, he continued in a soft voice, “You’ve proven your willingness to submit yourself to me, Nolofinwë, now I shall claim you as mine. But first we will do something about your trust issues.”

The younger elf turned his head aside and eyed him wearily out of the corner of his eye. “What do you mean to do about this. Trust cannot be forced.”

“Indeed it cannot. But I shall prove to you, that you can trust me. I shall lead and you shall follow, you said, but for this, you must trust in me, that I shall not lead you astray and will not cause you harm. Will you give me a chance to prove this to you?”

Nolofinwë hesitated for a long moment, until he finally nodded, still weary but willing to credit his half-brother some trust, if only for the faint hope that things might truly improve between them. “Very well, Fëanáro.”

“Then turn onto your back”, the older prince ordered and went to gather some silken ropes, while the younger complied.

As Nolofinwë’s eyes settled onto the ropes uncertainty retuned into his gaze. 

“Trust me, brother.” Fëanáro whispered and held out a hand, “Give me your hand.”

Slowly the younger elf lifted his hand and placed it in Fëanáro’s, who wound one of the ropes securely around his wrist and then tided it to one of the bedposts. In the same manner he proceeded with the other hand, before turning his attention to his feet.

Spread out thus Nolofinwë pulled once as hard as he could but found himself tightly secured without being able to gain even an inch of additionally room for movement. Completely at his half-brother’s mercy he looked up at him with wide fearful eyes.

“Be calm, I will not harm you. Trust me.” With these words spoken Fëanáro stepped back to retrieve something else and when the light reflected on the wickedly sharp knife in his hands, Nolofinwë gasped in terror. 

“Fëanáro, what are you doing?”

“Be calm”, the elder brother answered and approached the bed again, knife slightly raised. 

To begin with he placed the flat side of the blade against Nolofinwë’s arm and trailed it softly along the entirely length, then over his chest and down his stomach. Along his right leg and his left leg and back up to his chest and neck. Feeling his tensing and shivering body, but continuing still, before pulling back.

Slowly he lifted it to his own hand and pressed the sharp edge softly into his own hand, and showing Nolofinwë the blood running from the cut. Demonstrating the deadly sharpness and how easy it could cut through elven skin.

Loathing the look of pure terror in the other’s eyes he murmured “Lay still, brother, trust me.”

Then he set the lethal edge against his brother’s skin. Once again starting with his arm, trailing it carefully along across his chest and down over his stomach. There he followed each line of muscle then the subtle paths between his rips.

Slowly he felt his brother relaxing, the tension first leaving his limbs then his entire body until he lay completely yielding and calm; accepting that his very life now was placed utterly in his half-brother’s hands, if he meant to do away with him his was the perfect opportunity.

Just as gently and carefully he repeated the process again and again, until Nolofinwë closed his eyes and finally tipped his head back, baring his throat to the same treatment. With a smile Fëanáro accepted the offering and trailed his knife along the vulnerable flesh.

Then he removed the knife and placed it on the nightstand, next he moved on top of Nolofinwë and pressed the gentlest kiss to his parted lips. When his brother opened his eyes there is nothing but pure trust and devotion in them and once again Fëanáro could feel a strange arch in his chest, yet this time it felt so pleasant he could not supress a happy smile.

“Will you now free me, brother? Will you claim me as you said?” there was something shy and playful in Nolofinwë’s voice that Fëanáro never before had heard directed at him. 

He hummed in contentment before rising to unlace the ropes only to drop back on top of Nolofinwë. Carefully he nipped at one pointy ear and whispered just as playful, “Will you beg it of me?”

When the younger elf went still, Fëanáro pulled slightly back, to see if he had gone too far. His brother eyed him curiously for a short moment, before bumping their heads gently together and whispered, “Please.”

Then his hands sneaked up and stroked along Fëanáro’s flanks until he found the waistband of his leggings and pushed it downwards. The elder elf smirked and kicked them all the way down and off the bed, before grinding the bare length of their bodies together, moaning happily at the new warm friction between them.

“Turn around, Nolo, let me see if Carnistir did a good job preparing you for me.”

The prince turned around laying prone and presented his backside to his brother’s inspection who sat him on his knees and spread his legs a bit wider. Possessively Fëanáro’s hands stroked along Nolofinwë’s back and rear humming satisfied as he noticed his brother shivering excitedly, observing him curiously over his shoulder. Teasingly two fingers sneaked in between his brother’s asscheeks, finding and entering his opening.

“Hm, I would say Moryo did a great job preparing you” Fëanáro mumbled, moving his fingers in and out slowly searching for the spot that would bring Nolofinwë great pleasure. Once he found it the younger elf froze and moaned in sudden delight, before trying to push back and searching for more. “You like that, little brother?” the elder prince chuckled “Do you want more?”

“Yes, Fëanáro, yes, please.”

“Since you asked so nicely, Nolo” while he searched his bed for the phial he had given to Carnistir Fëanáro continued to pleasure his brother, but as his searching hand closed around it he slowly pulled back.

Laughing quietly at his brother’s displeased whine he popped the vial open and let some oil trickle down his length before spreading it with a few well practiced strokes. Then he turned his eyes back to Nolofinwë’s.

The younger prince eyed him with an interesting mix of nervousness, curiosity and lust, waiting impatiently for Fëanáro to resume his position. Then the elder finally smiled and moved over him, to cover Nolofinwë’s body with his own and press a lingering kiss to his cheek, before rubbing his elfhood against his brother’s backside.

“Do you want me, sweetling; do you want to be mine?”

With a contend sigh Nolofinwë moved his body even closer to his brother’s and murmured, “Yes, please, Fëanáro, take me, I’m yours to command. Lead me, lead me and I shall follow.”  
A groan escaped Fëanáro at those words and without any further hesitation he moved to mount his brother. As he slowly slipped into his warm tightness he moaned long and deep, his eyes dropping close in pure pleasure. “So tight and warm, so beautiful and perfect; oh, Valar, I want to move, no, I need to move. Nolo, can I move?””

The younger elf took a deep breath trying to breathe through the strange uncomfortable sensation of being so filled by Fëanáro, of being so full. But upon hearing his brother’s words he groaned quite pleased. 

“Yes, please.”

Slowly Fëanáro pulled out a bit and pressed in again. First shallow, but slowly gaining strength and speed under Nolofinwë’s lewd moans of pleasure as he pressed into his prostate again and again. 

His teeth clenched tightly the elder prince concentrated to bring his brother to climax before taking his own pleasure from his body, his hand seeking Nolofinwë’s erection and stroking him in time with his thrusts. This caused the younger elf to cry out in pleasure and soon after emptying himself on the bedding, overwhelmed by the accumulation of unknown sensation.

Sated and contend Nolofinwë sagged boneless and pliant down on his front, only kept somewhat uplifted by Fëanáro’s arm around his waist. Aiming for his own relief the elder prince moved even rougher, pounding hard into the relaxed elf until he emptied himself into him.

Then he collapsed on top of Nolofinwë, flattening him on the bed, breathing hard.

“That felt wonderous, brother.” Nolofinwë mumbled sleepily.

“It did, my Nolo.” Fëanáro responded lazily before turning on his side, pulling his brother with him, curling around him and pressing a kiss to his jaw.

“I should probably go home, before Arafinwë thinks we killed each other.”

“Why would he think that?”

“He told me the only way I would get it into your thick skull that I don’t mean to challenge you is submitting myself to you. I’m uncertain through, did I succeed?”

“I think I owe him a thank you then for delivering you to me.” Fëanáro mused, before chuckling amused “I’m not quite certain I’m convinced already. I think you need to prove yourself to me again soon and quite frequently after that, so to that end I think you should probably stay. Let Arafinwë fret a bit until he comes to check on us.”

Nolofinwë yawned tiredly before nodding and snuggling into the pillow, before slipping into his waking-dreams.

 

Back in the palace the blond high-prince walked up and down the length of the entrance hall, impatiently awaiting his brother’s return, but minutes turning into hours and he became more and more nervous.

“Arafinwë” he heard his father’s voice from behind.

“My king”, the blond acknowledged with a bow.

“Why are you pacing my hall, son? Has something happened?”

For a moment the youngest high-prince considered omitting the truth, but his worry for his brother outweighed his need to spare his father. “I sent Nolofinwë to speak with Fëanáro to try and make peace, but he left hours ago and has not yet returned.”

Finwë paled and his eyes widened in worry. “They have been alone for hours and you did not go to check on them?”

“I was hoping they might actually discuss their issues.” Arafinwë responded carefully.

“Come with me, we will go immediately.”

They reached Fëanáro’s housing in record time and were received by entirely too innocent looking Tylecormo who - after the high-king demanded to see his sons – merely shrugged with a devilish smile and lead them to Fëanáro’s chamber.

The king opened the door without knocking, his hands actually shacking with fear of what he might find on the other side. As he strode into the room he froze mid-step as his eyes landed on the bed and his two elder sons sleeping peacefully curled together, completely bare.

Arafinwë stepped next to him his mouth open as he gaped at them. “What …?” he turned his eyes on his father who looked caught between mild horror and deep gratitude.

Finwë sighed and stepped closer to them, a small smile on his face, as he bowed over them and kissed first Nolofinwë, then Fëanáro on the forehead. As he pulled back he found Fëanáro’s eyes opening and looking up at him.

“Atto”

“Don’t mind me, Fëanáro, I merely wanted to make sure you and your brother haven’t killed each other, but as it seems you have found a least one way to co-function. There are no words in any language to convey how happy I am, even though I’m not quite certain how I should feel about knowing you’ve taken your brother.”

Unconsciously Fëanáro’s grip around Nolofinwë tightened possessively.

“Peace, son, I’m hardly going to take Nolofinwë away from you. Far be it from me to discourage any form of bonding between the two of you; even this one. I have no greater wish than to finally have some peace again within my house, and if that means to turn a blind eye on some incest so be it, just keep it out of the public.”

With these words the high-king touched his eldest son’s face gently before turning around and leaving the room; a smirking Tylecormo and a puzzled Arafinwë trailing after him.


End file.
